


Bittersweet Compulsion

by angelcakkes



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Graffiti, M/M, Mild Criminal Activity, Vandalism, tbh idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcakkes/pseuds/angelcakkes
Summary: Jeno's got a sweet tooth yet he can't seem to get enough of the bitter taste that drips from Renjun's lips.OrJeno works at a book-cafe and Renjun is a street artist.





	Bittersweet Compulsion

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back momentarily! This was a wip I've been putting off for ages, so here it is. Idk how satisfied I am with the final product, but just being able to finish it is a big HURRAH for me. Anyways, this is sorta messy and idek wtf it is but enjoy.
> 
> Note: Jeno works at book-cafe which is like a library and a cafe where you can sit and read books while eating cake and drinking coffee.

Jeno’s just about had it with the group of girls three tables away from the counter. Time and time again, He has asked kindly, firmly, and borderline begged, for them to be quiet so the other (scowling) patrons could enjoy their coffee and book in peace. It works for 1 minute and 28 seconds – Jeno’s counted – before they start squealing again.

_“I would die for Simon – he’s so cute!”_

_“No but consider Baz – so misunderstood and dark, yet so in love with Simon – “_

_“They’re perfect for each other –“_

Jeno rolls his eyes, casting them out the window in hopes of drowning out the incessant jabbering from the clique. The dry, umber leaves tumble and tussle across the scene, silently carried by gusts of wind. Beside him, Jaemin starts an order, the whirring of the coffee machine making up for the absence of sound marred by the thick glass panels, hushing the whistle of sharp Autumn wind waning into a harsh Winter. Despite so, as Jeno watches the stealthy breeze slice between the leaves on the towering oak tree just across the street, ravens rapidly flapping away from the staggering branches, he feels the chilly blade run across his skin, and the hairs on his arms rise. He blinks away, turning back to the counter and an approaching customer, and the deafening shrieks break his attained serenity. He sighs.

“I hate this job.” Jeno grumbles, scanning the book and the customer’s burrowing card.

“This job is what pays for your weekly spree at Whole Foods.” Jaemin says, matter-of-factly; a hand on his cocked hip as he uses the other to slide the drink across the counter-top to Donghyuck, who takes it to an expectant customer.

“Yeah, well, it sucks.”

Jaemin offers sympathy in the form of a gentle touch to his shoulder, “they’ll leave soon,” he looks over to the group of girls with a slight frown, “I mean, they have to.”

Jeno grumbles, something about how disruptive they were and how his ears were bleeding and how they were losing customers with every shrill scream. He then turns to the glass cabinet behind him, sliding the case open to free the cakes and pastries. From amongst the cream puffs and tarts, he picks out a particularly plump éclair and shoves it into his mouth; sticky chocolate ganache smearing his lips, sweet vanilla cream bursting onto his tongue. He licks his lips, savouring the sweet taste, and letting the desert numb his headache.

“That’s coming out of your pay.” Jaemin says, throwing a dish rag over his shoulder before sauntering past the doors and into the kitchen. Jeno whines through a mouth full of pastry, gulping down the rest of the eclair.

The door to the book-café dings. Jeno looks up at the overhead clock to read the time 3:30pm, and without turning around, he knows who it is. Quickly, he wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and turns to the customer – a small, raven-haired Chinese boy named Renjun, who has been a regular for the past three weeks. Every day, he comes in at exactly half-past three, orders an espresso shot, then leaves with his overly large backpack that clinks with unknown trinkets. It took Jeno five days, six mini raspberry tarts, and one whole chocolate cake, for him to muster up the courage and ask for the boy’s name, who later on spilled his background and college major. Undeniably, Jeno thought he was extremely pretty, with his delicate features, button nose, and pretty lips; his soft voice and shy smile that made Jeno’s heart swell and pulse. Unfortunately for Jeno, that’s about as far as their relationship goes; Renjun never stays for more than a few minutes, slowly sipping his coffee in drops despite the tiny serving, then leaving as soon as he was done. If Jeno was lucky Renjun would ask about his day, and if he was feeling brave, he’d ask back.

Renjun offers a small smile as he walks up to the counter, setting his bag down to the floor. He props himself onto his usual stool and leans over the counter, waiting for Jeno to acknowledge his presence with his typical gawk, and awkward cough.

“Welcome back. What can I get you?” Jeno asks, looking at Renjun for a few seconds, then taking out a pen and notepad, for formalities sake (and so he has an excuse to look anywhere but at Renjun). Really, he doesn’t need to ask either – he knows what Renjun always wants, but he does so just to hear Renjun speak a few extra words in his delightfully smooth voice. Renjun knows this too, but humours Jeno anyways, amusement colouring his voice as Jeno refuses to look him directly in the eye.

Renjun orders his coffee and shortly after, Jeno sets the small glass of espresso on the counter. Renjun thanks him, and thus begins his 15 minutes of steadily consuming the drink. Jeno watches as Renjun takes the first sip, his face slightly crinkling at the bitter taste before quickly setting back to a stoic expression. From the first day, Jeno’s watched Renjun’s face contort with absolute disgust at the taste of the drink. Over weeks, however, he’s learnt to school his expression, or at least get somewhat used to the strong taste – Jeno’s never had the courage to ask, so he assumes. What he doesn’t get, is why Renjun suffers the bitterness instead of just ordering something else; but once again, he doesn’t have the heart to ask.

Renjun catches Jeno staring and looks up to meet his gaze, a smirk playing at his lips. Jeno flares up at being caught, and clears his throat, wiping away at the shining counter Jaemin had just cleaned. Renjun watches Jeno’s cheeks gradually cool down, and he chews on his lips, the bitter taste from remnants of the coffee, seeping from his lips and onto his tongue. Dissatisfied with the lack of attention, he switches to a seat directly before Jeno, who stops scrubbing at absolutely nothing and looks up.

“What are you doing?”

Renjun takes a small sip, smacking his lips together, and instantly regretting it when the bitterness reaches a new peak. Jeno continues to stare at him with question. Renjun sighs, setting his glass down. “I wanted to see you better.” He says, blinking innocently.

Jeno opens his mouth to speak, splutters over nothing, then shuts his mouth firmly. He nods, as if giving Renjun an unspoken approval of sorts, and stares at the floor for so long he doesn’t realise Renjun’s finished his coffee. The glass taps against the table as Renjun sets it down, picks up his bag, and heads out the door without another word. Jeno only looks up when familiar clinks hit his ears, watching Renjun disappear away with the wind.

-

When Jeno’s parents said to utilise his gap year, he thinks maybe that meant anything other than spending all his days working at the book-café, eating sweets and reading poetry he doesn’t understand. He flips over the page of Edgar Allan Poe’s _The Raven_ using the edge of his hand, free from the stickiness of a lemon tart that covers his fingers. He’s halfway through the book without knowing _what in the world_ the poem was about except for the fact that the raven basically only says _nevermore_ eerily.

It’s a slow day – hence Jeno’s leisure time of eating and reading on an empty couch. Thankfully, it’s also a quieter day, with the absence of yesterday’s boisterous group, allowing Jeno and the other patrons to be at peace. There’s a senior book-club sitting before the Latin reading section; a small group of aged women mumbling quietly, sipping on oolong tea, and filling the room with an overpowering smell of baby wipes. On the other side, a lone teenage girl lays on a bean bag, devouring book after book of the Percy Jackson series, gasping or breathing sharply ever so often. Jaemin’s taking a nap on the end of the couch, form curled up comfortably, gentle breaths raspy and chesty with an oncoming cold. Jeno makes a mental note to buy him medicine, because he knows Jaemin will forget. Donghyuck appears from the shelves, pushing the cart of books – now empty – along with him.

“I’m done shelving.” He announces, setting the cart aside, disappearing into the staff room and reappearing in his coat. “I’m signing out then.”

Jeno offers a wordless farewell with a flick of his wrist, which Donghyuck acknowledges before he leaves. _Probably has a date with that Canadian boyfriend of his_ , Jeno thinks. He looks up at the clock, spotting the time to be five minutes to half-past three, and slowly rises to his feet. Shaking off the pins and needles from hours of sitting, he resumes his position behind the counter.

Right on time, Renjun enters with his characteristic smile and clanking bag. Their routine ensues, with Jeno gawking despite having prepared for Renjun’s arrival, and Renjun smiling with endearment. He takes his usual seat, Jeno prepares his usual order, and Renjun drinks in his usual, painstaking manner as Jeno tries to busy himself with anything but staring at the boy before him. Renjun eyes Jeno as he takes _The Raven_ out of the pocket of his apron, and in a burst of sudden curiosity, be blurts “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

Jeno visibly jolts like he’s been zapped, not expecting Renjun to start a conversation with him – or just talk to him out of routine. He looks at the book in his hand, then back at Renjun, giving him a sheepish smile. “I don’t. I’m just reading this because it was lying around idly and,” he shies away when he realises that Renjun’s been earnestly listening to him, eyes fixed on Jeno, “I was bored.” Jeno finishes in a mumble.

Renjun smiles, “so out of all these books,” he waves his hands over the room in explanation, bringing them back to point at the book in Jeno’s hand, “you chose one of the most esteemed gothic poems to read out of boredom?”

Jeno shrugs, and Renjun giggles, his small hand curling against his mouth. “I don’t even get it.” Jeno adds for no reason, but Renjun only giggles harder and Jeno feels fulfilled.

“Okay Jeno Lee.” Renjun says with a smile so bright Jeno thinks he’ll put the sun out of a job if he smiles like that any longer.

Renjun erupts into laughter, a rosy hue tinging the apples of his cheeks. Jeno blinks dumbly, his cheeks flaming when he realises he vocalised his thoughts. “You’re so cheesy.” Renjun says, laughter simmering down. “You’re so cute,” he adds, and by now Jeno’s on fire. Renjun checks his watch and steps off his stool, excusing himself by noting how late it’s getting and how he has things to do. Jeno wants to say that it’s only 4:12, and that the book-café doesn’t close until late, just so Renjun can stay longer even if it means Jeno’s disintegration into ashes. But, he figures Renjun has a busy life, judging by his stuffed bag, and decides to let him go. He’s already stayed longer than usual and broken habit by _actually_ talking to Jeno, so this is enough. _Baby steps._

When Renjun leaves, Jeno retreats to the couch, relaxing into the plush seat, resuming back to the book.

 

Jeno switches off the final set of lights, shutting the door behind him as he steps out into the night. He locks the door, keys jingling as he tucks them away into his pocket, pulling his coat on tighter around his frame in defence against the cold. A chill breeze threads through his dark hair, nipping at the tip of his nose, drying out his cheeks. He lets out a puff of air, watching it condense under the streetlight, before making his way down the empty street. Keeping his eyes downcast, he focuses on the pull and stretch of his shadow under the bright, white lights, whilst making a mental note to remind Jaemin to rest, take medication, and that he’ll take care of the café tomorrow. He knows Jaemin won’t listen, because like Donghyuck, he’s inept in taking care of himself or listening to others, so he makes a note to himself to visit Jaemin in the morning and strap him to bed.

The wind picks up, making Jeno shiver despite his thick coat. He quickens his pace, wanting to get home before he himself catches a cold and all his nagging at Jaemin becomes redundant. Turning at the corner of the street, he stops, noticing a hooded figure stepping out of an alley. The figure looks around, freezing when spotting Jeno. What compels Jeno to walk faster and approach the mysterious figure – curiosity, madness, a tug at his heartstrings – is beyond him, but as he does, the figure inches back, gradually slinking further away with Jeno’s every step. He stops moving after a while, and Jeno quickens his pace, trying to peer at the face under the hood. The small shoulders, dainty frame, all too familiar for Jeno to ignore. By the time Jeno catches up to the stranger, his heart is in his mouth, beating erratically, making his head heavy and dizzy with rupturing pounds.

“Renjun.” He breathes, and his heart bursts – one final beat shaking his nerves to a halt. Said boy looks up at him from under his hood, eyes crinkling at the corners in a brilliant smile that bursts through his eyes, black mask covering half his face holding nothing against it. On impulse, Jeno pulls down the mask to get a full view of Renjun’s face, drenched in the light of the moon, Jeno is blinded. “What are you doing out so late?” He finally chokes out. Renjun falters for a split second, eyes flickering so fast Jeno thinks he imagined it, before he composes himself, reverting to his beaming smile.

“I was just out for a walk.” He answers coolly.

“This late? It’s so cold.” _It’s so dangerous._

Renjun shrugs, taking a deep breath, sucking in the frosty air. “I like the night.”

Jeno doesn’t comment on how uncharacteristic that seems of him. Someone so gentle and radiant as Renjun to be out in forlorn darkness, and to like it, was a strange concept that Jeno couldn’t wrap his head around. Renjun steps to Jeno’s side, hooking their arms together. “You’re heading home, right? Come on, I’ll walk you.” Jeno wants to stop and say that he should be the one walking Renjun instead, but the statement dies in his throat as the raven-haired boy gently tugs Jeno down the street. After a while he lets Jeno take the lead, matching his steps with Jeno’s. The walk remains silent; Renjun breathes in the cool, refreshing air, while Jeno’s head drowns in questions and the alarming fact that Renjun was snuggling against his arm.

They shortly arrive at Jeno apartment complex. Renjun detaches himself to stand in front of Jeno, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

“Renjun –“

“Have a good night, Jeno.” Renjun interrupts with a soft smile. Jeno stumbles over his words, trying to recall what he was going to say and how to voice it, his mind in a jumbled heap. Renjun scans Jeno’s mien, eyes admiring the sharp features, finally resting on his lips. A spark shoots through his legs, pushing him up and, in a burst of spontaneity, he leans up and kisses them. Jeno blinks, dumbfounded. His lips tingle and his mind goes blank, ears growing hot. Renjun looks up at him contemplatively, chewing his lip, then, again, he rises to the balls of his feet, loops his arms around Jeno’s shoulders, and encloses his mouth over Jeno’s. Startled, Jeno’s eyes grow wide, until Renjun coaxes his mouth open and pushes deeper. His hands hover above Renjun’s waist, fist clenching and unclenching till Renjun guides them down the remaining few centimetres. Jeno’s eyes flutter shut as he finally kisses back, the shock dissipating into a hunger, a desire to relish in Renjun’s lips as he holds up his pliant form. Renjun pulls away with a smooch, pressing a chaste kiss to Jeno’s lips before vanishing into the night with a breathy _goodnight_ , leaving Jeno, winded and thunderstruck on his doorstep.

-

Jeno staggers to work the next day, hungover from the events of last night. If Jaemin noticed his distraught state in the morning, he brushed it off, because kindly said, Jeno was a wreck. He’d thought that kissing Renjun would make him elated, put a spring to his step, not became an anchor weighing him down and dragging him back. Truthfully, Jeno’s order of progression went from talk to Renjun, become friends, then _maybe_ ask him out – kissing wasn’t even on the list. The unexpected turn of events, coupled with the bizarre circumstance of it, has knocked Jeno off his feet.

He shrugs off his coat, tossing it onto the coat-hanger, then heads out of the staff room to flop dramatically onto the counter. He looks up at the clock as it strikes quarter past 12 – recent events compelling him to open the book-café 2 hours late. If the day goes by normally, Renjun will show in about three hours. Jeno shoots up, rubbing his face vigorously, slapping himself to wake him up. His cheeks sting, but he rolls up his sleeves (then pulls them down because it’s cold) and gets to work, shelving the books from the returns box. Whatever the day had in store, whatever the next step was with Renjun, Jeno would just have to face it. Blasting the heater on high, he barrels down the rows of shelves, losing himself in Dewey-decimals and literature.

 

In his favour, the rest of the day continues according to routine. Like usual, the senior book club shows at around lunch time, ordering shortcake and Earl-grey tea. The _Rick Riordan_ fanatic arrives later than usual, but orders the same mochaccino and sits on the same bean bag. Donghyuck arrives late for work, as per usual, and annoys Jeno with lame humour and bad puns, chuckling by himself as he fills the pastry cabinets with fresh goods. Jeno, meanwhile, serves customers, makes coffee, scans books, and eats cream buns – like usual.

Donghyuck emerges from the back to ruin Jeno’s peace, shrill voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “Did you hear about the vandalism outbreak?” Jeno quirks his brow and shakes his head. “It’s everywhere! There were only a few reports at first, you know, just some graffiti in alleys and stuff, but apparently now it’s all over monuments and buildings – defacing almost everything. Everyone’s talking about it, some are saying it's cool while others are, you know, angry. What’s more, is that they always sign off with _Le Noir_ – how mysterious and cool is that?” Donghyuck flails his arms in exaggerated fashion, expressing utter, albeit dramatized, excitement. Jeno frowns – he knows vandalism is illegal, but nothing so grotesque to get so riled up about. How bad could it be?

He voices his thoughts, to which Donghyuck answers, “real bad when it’s taking over the city! You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed!”

Jeno shrinks back from Donghyuck’s exploding face. He’s barely out – only leaves his house for Whole Foods, the gym, and work – and when he is, he doesn’t pay much attention to his surroundings. Sure, he’s seen a few artworks on buildings, benches, and cars, of deformed figures and flowers, controversial messages sprayed onto brick, exposing underlying hypocrisy in the seams of the government and society – but, Jeno doesn’t see the problem. He thinks of it as abstract art, somewhat, somehow, pretty. Maybe he’s just being daft.

Donghyuck’s ongoing rant is cut off by the ding of the doorbell. Jeno turns to face the customer, and freezes. It’s 3:30. It’s Renjun.

Renjun smiles awkwardly from afar which Jeno mimics. He shuffles to the counter, and Jeno notices the absence of his large bag. _Perhaps he has no classes today –_ he assumes, and doesn’t ask him outright.

“Hi.” Renjun says, settling atop his usual stool, smiling at Jeno.

“Hi.” Jeno parrots, trying not to combust or burst into the overflow of questions rushing through his mind. He wants to know, does Renjun like him? Why did he kiss him? They’ve never talked much before? Since when has he liked him? Is it because Jeno was obvious? Did he pity him? Why was he out at night? Was he waiting for him –

His stream of thought is broken by Donghyuck coughing loudly and fleeing the scene, right after looking between the two of them and rolling his eyes. Jeno snaps out of it, and pursues with the routine, asking Renjun for his order.

“A shot of espresso, and the largest piece of chocolate cake you have.” He says, holding up two fingers, wiggling them cutely. Jeno nods, moving away to make the coffee and cut up a huge slice of cake – no extra charge – just for Renjun. He sets them down and sits behind the counter, folding his arms and resting his chin. Renjun sips the steaming coffee, face shrivelling up with disgust. He then forks some cake into his mouth and sighs in contentment.

“Why do you order that if you hate it so much?” Jeno decides to ask the question bothering him for weeks now.

Renjun blinks at him, taken back. He colours prettily as he plays with the fork, twirling it over in his fingers. “It makes me feel like I’m an adult, and keeps me going – literally.”

Jeno nods with understanding, mouth agape. Renjun giggles at Jeno’s mien, then forks some cake to Jeno, pressing the cold metal topped with chocolatey goodness to his lips, invitingly. Jeno gleefully accepts, allowing Renjun to feed him more of the cake.

Renjun stays for almost an hour – a new record – as he spills to Jeno about his classes, and his art major, and how much he hates the teacher’s and students’ confining ideas and rules for a subject ideally meant for free expression. Jeno drinks it in, mesmerised by the way Renjun’s eyes sparkle when he speaks of his favourite artists and artwork, his inspirations and dreams. Renjun decorates his words with colourful adjectives and adverbs, smooth gestures as if conducting his words into music. They hit Jeno’s ear with bass, medium, and treble – beat, rhythm, and harmony.

Renjun cuts himself off with a sharp gasp and a shout of the time. Hurriedly, he jumps off his stool, promising to see Jeno tomorrow. Jeno, startled by the fervour, watches Renjun rush to the door, only to rush back and press a kiss to Jeno’s cheek. Jeno’s hand flies to his cheek, the spot where Renjun’s lips touched, tingling and blooming with colour. Donghyuck knocks into him, slapping his shoulders and slamming him with a wave of questions. Jeno wordlessly turns to the boy, suddenly bursting with joy, grabbing Donghyuck’s shoulders and leaping on his feet. Donghyuck remains confused, as Jeno’s too busy silently screaming to coherently explain, but indulges Jeno anyways by loudly screaming along.

 

Jeno crawls into bed that night feeling tingly all over. He wriggles his toes under the comforter, and flips over onto his stomach, back, then stomach again, pressing his face into the mattress. He smiles at the thought of Renjun, at the wordless conviction that he liked Jeno back, that they were _a thing_ now. His excitement pops and fizzes away when he realises he doesn’t know Renjun’s number, or anything much really. He groans, mentally kicking himself for forgetting such a crucial detail. Now, he’d have to wait till tomorrow to see Renjun, get his number, and maybe ask him out on a proper date. He groans again, impatient and starved already from the lack of connection with Renjun. He looks out the window, slightly ajar, gently blowing the curtains and allowing a sliver of moonlight to part his room with light, dividing the otherwise darkness in two. He thinks of the night again, when he saw Renjun emerging from the alley, and his gut lurches, the unanswered, daunting questions floating to his mind again. Sighing, he screws his eyes shut, eases into the sheets, and forces himself to sleep.

-

When Renjun returns to the book-café the following day, Jeno has to seat themselves at a couch near the back, away from the scrutiny of the maniacs he calls friends. Jaemin recovers from his fever with a flourish, much to Jeno's chagrin, because now he’s joined Donghyuck in ruining Jeno’s life and his new relationship. Renjun, however, finds it endearing when Jeno whines whenever they disrupt them.

“Have you finished the poem?” Renjun asks lifting his legs onto Jeno’s lap as he leans back against the arm of the couch. Jeno shakes his head and replies, “almost.”

“You still don’t get it?”

Jeno shakes his head again, tutting. Renjun smiles, softly humming an unfamiliar tune. Jeno spots the daily paper left behind on the coffee table, presumably by one of the senior patrons. Spotting the bold headline of graffiti outbreak, he picks it up, curiously scanning through the article – it’s about time he kept up to speed with the world around him. Renjun frowns at the diverted attention. He sits up, zeroing in on the article, he crumples the paper up in his hand. Jeno looks up at Renjun, alarmed by his sudden aggressive action, only to have the paper knocked out of his hand as Renjun throws a leg over his waist. He yelps, as Renjun straddles him, lifting his chin and coercing Jeno’s focus back to him. Renjun pecks his lips lightly, again and again, teasing Jeno until the latter forces him down and crashes their lips together. Jeno wraps his arms around Renjun’s thin frame, rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back, luring a hum out of Renjun. Triumphantly, Jeno smiles into the kiss, the bitter aftertaste of espresso dripping from Renjun's lips. Jeno’s body grows warm with fever, as Renjun seeps into his skin and crawls into his mind, slipping between the cracks of his skin and crevices of his brain. Tangling his fingers in Jeno’s hair, he pulls him under, and Jeno’s drowning.

 

The next week carries on with Jeno meeting Renjun in and out of the café, never at night, but for lunch and breakfast and all that lies in between. Renjun sometimes comes in during a particularly busy hour, choosing to only give Jeno a kiss, then settle on the back couch with a book. His current pick is _The Outsiders_. When the hour bubbles down, Jeno joins him with a cup of coffee and some sweets, and Renjun reads to him. At the end of the book, Renjun cries, his tears dropping to the page in fat lumps, staining it with grief and emotion. Jeno, at first, flails with worry, then gently smooths the tears away and whispers that they’ll come back to life when Renjun begins again – that was the magic of books after all. Renjun hums in agreement, and begins the book again. Jeno ends up buying it for him, but Renjun refuses the crisp copy, preferring the tattered library one instead, so Jeno simply switches them. Renjun kisses his cheeks over and over again, treating the mole under his eye and in the hollow of his cheek like targets. Tightly hugging his shoulders, he nuzzles against his neck.

On Friday night, the police show up at his door, asking if he’s noticed any gang activity nearby, anything or anyone that could be responsible for the overhaul of graffiti tarnishing the city. Jeno simply purses his lips and denies seeing anything. He was too preoccupied with Renjun and impending entrance exams to think about anything else.

 

The next day, at work, Jeno waits for Renjun so they can head out for lunch. It’s already 2, and Renjun’s a good half hour late. Jeno scowls at the clock, watching as the second hand outruns the minutes, dragging it along slowly. With every passing tick, his frown deepens with worry.

“Send him a text.” Jaemin advises him, urging Jeno to message Renjun, asking if he was okay.

Renjun doesn’t reply.

In fact, Jeno doesn’t hear from him the whole day.

 

Jeno sluggishly closes shop, his coat flying open at the flurry of cool wind. It’s another chilly night, but Jeno’s too busy moping to care about catching a cold or his skin falling off. His mind swarms with worry for Renjun, wondering what could’ve happened to him. His thoughts flit to the policemen and the mention of gangs, and he draws a sharp breath, praying that the gangs were just a figment of society’s fear and Renjun was safe. He had thought of going over to Renjun place to check up on him, only to realise that he didn’t know where Renjun lived. He sighs, shoulders sagging as he briskly walks down the street to get home faster. He turns at the corner of the street, stalling to a halt when he hears the whiff of spray, the distinct odour of paint filling his nostrils. Subconsciously, his feet steer towards the sound, leading him into the alley just by the bend. Jeno’s heart drops to his feet, dragging his steps as he enters the dark alley. Something at the back of his mind, an itch under his skin, tells him to stop, to turn around, to just go home. But Jeno’s too drunk from curiosity, and a desire to quell the unsettling feeling in his stomach, to turn back now. The sound gets clearer – sharper – and he hears the rattle of spray-cans being shaken to life. He pulls out his phone, knowing very well that it was illegal to withhold a report of criminal activity, but he can’t. Not this. He can’t dial the number, can’t get past his home screen – a photo of Renjun asleep on his lap – because before him, is Renjun’s small frame, donned in the same black hoodie. He has his back towards Jeno, concentrating on the piece he was printing onto the wall of the warehouse. Jeno takes a loud breath, and Renjun spins around, the can of paint dropping to the floor and rolling to Jeno’s feet as Renjun’s eyes double in size. Jeno releases his breath; Renjun, turning slowly to face him completely.

“Jeno, what – what are you doing here?”

Jeno frowns, his fingers trembling at his sides. Thousands of thoughts fly through his head at once, until one surfaces – Renjun is the vandal ruining the city. Renjun is the one who’s been making headlines with his work, sparking debate over what was art and what wasn’t. Renjun, his sweet, soft, delicate, love, singlehandedly covered the city in paint, with the very hands Jeno’s kissed and held so gingerly.

Renjun didn’t tell him.

Renjun deceived him.

“Jeno,” Renjun starts, pulling down his mask. He brings his hands up in defence, and Jeno sees the paint smears, and it’s too real. “I can explain. I was going to tell you just – just not like this – “

“You lied to me,” Jeno croaks, “when I asked you why you were so tired, why you were out so late, you…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair, he staggers back. Everything seemed to click. Renjun’s desire for liberty in expressing his art, his hatred for the way his major was taught, his drowsiness, his lethargy, and why he always switched the TV off when the news came on. His frustrations poured out in dreadfully enigmatic art – in fully illegal means. “You’ll go to prison if they find you.” Jeno states clearly, and Renjun wilts. Despite his build, Renjun’s always been bigger than what his tiny frame can carry. It showed in his art too – meagre canvases couldn’t entail what Renjun had to say. He needed a bigger canvas, a bigger stage. Yet in the moment now, under the humble glow of the moon, Renjun was just a withering boy.

Jeno’s face crumpled with devastation. He felt betrayed, knowing fully well in his head that he needed to properly converse with Renjun, but his heart filled his mind and numbed all rationality. To refrain from making a mistake, from brokenly yelling about lies, or from scooping Renjun up and running away with him, Jeno walks away.

-

A week, Jeno spends, in bed. Away from work and his friends, who try to coax him out for lunch, or invite themselves over with food. Jeno shoos them away, excusing himself with the need for time, and a reassurance that he’ll be fine. Jaemin apologises for Jeno’s hurt, and Jeno’s sorry he made him feel like that in the first place. So, after a week, he gets up and joins his friends for lunch. He doesn’t hear from Renjun, which worries him, though he wishes it didn’t. He still felt for Renjun, couldn’t simply shake off all the love he had for him. But he needed time, and wasn’t ready to handle whatever baggage Renjun’s crime would bring.

To set his mind elsewhere, he reads. Starting from the beginning, he reads _The Raven_ again, this time with full concentration. By the end of the poem, as he shuts the book, Jeno finally thinks he understands it – the speaker’s slow descent to madness, by a raven, over his love – Lenore. Jeno takes it as an allegory of sorts, encompassing a bigger picture, one that includes him and Renjun. He relates, sort of, as he’s got his own raven driving him mad, his own _Le Noir_ to love. He chuckles to himself, madness truly consuming him. Tossing the book onto the mattress, he puts on his coat and heads out.

 

He arrives at the only place he can think of where Renjun might be – the alley. In broad daylight, as he enters the narrow lane, he at last sees what Renjun had been working on that night. Stretching over the expanse of the warehouse wall, was a large portrait of himself, bursting with colour. Jeno stares, astounded by the details, a plethora of colours splashed onto the cement wall, brightening up the dull grey. As his eyes scatter across the picture, and his heart pulses with overwhelming pride and love, Jeno thinks he’s truly insane to be so madly in love with a boy bigger than the world, crazy enough to swallow a city with the paint in his hands. He fixates on the door to the warehouse, the knob covered in red fingerprints. Out of curiosity, he twists the door open, and is met with darkness. He pats the wall beside him in search of a switch, finally finding it and flooding the room with light. Jeno’s breath hitches. The walls are filled to the brim; with meadows and fields, starkly juxtaposed by war-torn dystopias; disfigured bodies and carcasses blooming flowers; bleeding sunflowers; and the entire galaxy, mapped out onto the roof. Jeno reels back in awe, lightheaded from all the colour and brightness, from the surge of feeling rushing through his veins, penetrating and filtering his heart.

“Renjun!” He calls, his voice bouncing off the empty walls. There’s no answer, and Jeno panics. What if he left? What if he moved? What if he –

He doesn’t finish his own thought, rushing to the book-café, in desperate need of Donghyuck’s help.

-

Donghyuck pulls a few strings (articles, really), and Jeno finds out Renjun had turned himself in, and had been put in remand for the time being, awaiting a sentence. He immediately makes an appointment to meet him.

Renjun smiles as Jeno slides into his seat, separated by a glass panel. Jeno picks up the phone, and Renjun mirrors him, breathing into the receiver.

“Hi.” Jeno says, smiling at Renjun through the clear screen.

“Hey.” Renjun replies in a raspy tone. Jeno’s heart aches.

“I saw the warehouse – the picture of me, the walls inside… it was beautiful.”

Renjun scoffs, “ah well, look where all that passion took me…” He awkwardly thumbs the cord, then speaks again, more lightly, “you should see my apartment, it’s covered! Even more than the warehouse. I – I needed more space.” He says with a sheepish grin.

Jeno laughs, rubbing the back of his nape. “What happens now?”

“It’s either a fine, or imprisonment, or both – considering the scale of my street art.” He quotes the last two words and Jeno chuckles again.

“I’ll wait for you,” Jeno promises, “whatever it is.”

Renjun’s eyes glisten, tears pooling at the edges. He inhales deeply, releasing it with a breathy, muffled, “I love you.”

Jeno smiles.

-

“I can’t believe you’re being let off with just a fine!” Donghyuck exclaims, kicking his feet onto the counter. Jaemin shoves them off, only for Donghyuck to prop them up again.

“And 600 hours of community service.” Renjun adds, “the fine’s pretty hefty too - $6000 – so I don’t know what you mean by _just_ –“

He’s cut off by Jeno engulfing him in his arms. Renjun giggles as Jeno litters kisses all over his cheeks, spinning him around to capture his lips. Renjun smiles into the kiss, bracing Jeno's neck, standing on his toes. Jeno breaks away and rests his forehead against Renjun’s, noses bumping, breaths mingling. Renjun shifts, his raven hair tickling Jeno’s neck as he buries his face into Jeno’s collar, deeply breathing in his scent.

“Enough! Enough!” Jaemin claps, tearing the couple apart. “Renjun has work to do, and so do you Jeno! Go! I don’t pay you to stand around.”

“Technically, you don’t pay us at all, your father does –“

“Donghyuck, shut up.”

Jeno whines as Renjun’s torn away from his grasp, eliciting a chuckle from Renjun. “You’re not going to die Jeno, relax.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, pulling Jeno down for a swift, chaste kiss while Jaemin argues with Donghyuck. Jeno grips his waist, firmly holding him in place. He presses his lips to the shell of Renjun’s ear and whispers, “I love you.”

-

**_Grand Opening: Le Noir Galleria._ **

_The grand opening of Le Noir Galleria, this weekend at xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx._

_Stemming from the ashes of a past criminal record, ex-street artist Le Noir takes to the big stage, as he breaks through and rereleases his potential for the first time in 10 years. An abstract, unabashed take on expression and symbolism, stretching from the roots, to the skies, filling and colouring the walls of the galleria. By his side, his partner Lee Jeno, acts as both an inspiration and driving force to his artistic ethics. Come and see the masterpieces for yourself, at the Grand Opening, this weekend!_

**Author's Note:**

> Lenore -> Le Noir (pfft wtf)
> 
> ANYWHO, umm, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! The noren tags been dry lately so this was me quenching myself tbh. 
> 
> Please do comment and leave kudos! 
> 
> Talk to me on twt: [baeksonified](https://twitter.com/baeksonified)  
> Or: [cc](https://curiouscat.me/angelcakkes)


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